Work Text:
Oxford in October was wet. Their Indian summer was long gone, and the cold made Nikola ache.
“Oh! My apologies, sir.”
Someone had walked into him. Turning to berate them, the words died on his lips. A dress? Who wore a dress here? Let alone a crimson one!
Looking at her worried face, his dratted heart skipped a beat. Swallowing minutely, he shook his head. “No apologies necessary.” Sidestepping, he bowed. “Good day, miss.”
Watching her walk away, smiling politely, Nikola knew no-one ordinary wore a crimson dress to Oxford. He grinned. His stay here was going to get interesting.